


What's In a Name

by tobirion



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Spock, M/M, vague allusions to former trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobirion/pseuds/tobirion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim shuffles to the left and nods to the space against the wall beside him for Spock to join, Spock does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's In a Name

“Hello,” Spock says as he looks in the mirror- the corners of his lips twitching to hold the unfamiliar smile which looks more like a grimace in place. “My name is Skylar Grayson.” 

\--

Jim Kirk lives in apartment number 319. Spock learns this late one night when he steps off the stairs and rounds the corner of his floor, blue tuque pulled low over his pointed ears, large framed glasses doing an exemplary job at hiding the upward slant to his brows. Jim leans against the wall between their two doors smoking a cigarette. He offers a quirked brow and a slight smile at Spock as he digs in his deep jacket pockets for his keys. 

“Rough night?” he asks, blowing a thick cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. 

Spock hums in acknowledgement before stopping to answer ( _that is a human reaction, remember to smile._ ) “Yes.” 

Orange light from the street lights spill through the gaps in the railings, but the shadows are deep, purple and black, blue over Jim Kirk’s face. Jim offers Spock a smoke and Spock almost refuses, before he takes it slowly, rolling it between his pale, too long, bony fingers. The gesture looks as weird as it feels, like the hand doesn’t belong to him, like his fingers are foreign, belonging to someone else. Someone who smokes, someone who stops to talk to their neighbors, someone who smiles. _Human_.

Spock puts the cigarette between his lips and Jim gestures for him to lean in, lighting the smoke in one fluid movement before snapping the zippo closed. He rolls the smoke on his tongue, acrid and bitter, unfamiliar and discomforting. When Jim shuffles to the left and nods to the space against the wall beside him for Spock to join, Spock does. 

\--

“Hello,” Spock says, sticks his hand out for his new employer, makes sure his shields are in place, and smiles. “I’m Skylar Grayson.” 

\--

James Tiberius Kirk has a name of great grandeur. Kirk used to mean a lot more, Jim tells him, George Kirk, his father had been a starship pilot just long enough to become a hero. 

“Tough name to live up to.” Jim had joked but Spock could see the strain in his face and the tightening in the corners of his lips. “Not that I ever did. 

Now it’s just a name, like everyone else’s.

But it still means something, Spock desperately wants to tell him, instantly feeling disgust at his apparent internal emotional distress. He can practically hear his father's voice in his head ‘an emotional attachment to a name is illogical ( _ ~~I am S'chn T'gai Spock~~ \-- I am Skylar Grayson_). 

Thinking about his father makes his chest ache in a way he’s never felt before, he tries not to think of him, the attack, or the subsequent repercussions after that.

\--

Spock says Jim’s name as much as he can, at random moments during the day. When they’re sitting around Jim’s tiny dining room table sharing Thai food from the hole in the wall restaurant attached to their building, bright sunlight spilling in through the window washing the kitchen in a golden glow-- almost making Jim look ethereal with his golden hair and tanned skin. Jim's knees knocking against his, both pretending not to notice when their feet brush under the table. Or when Jim’s sitting on the arm of the couch, tugging lightly on Spock’s tuque, “How come you never take this off.”

“Part of my charm.” Spock answers, feeling his heart rate spike in panic, as he drags it firmly back into place. ( _should have never let himself get this close. this is risky. there are risks. stay hidden. human._ )

Jim is Jim. Confident and bold and so sure of who he is. So sure of his name regardless of the fact it ‘used to mean a lot more’.

Spock watches the way Jim instinctively reacts to it, the way he hums in acknowledgment without even looking up from the tea he’s making for the both of them.

Spock tries to study and memorize Jim’s mannerisms, the way he reacts to the name, almost like an afterthought or an instinct, the lazy confidence with _knowing who you are_.

Spock practices them in front of the mirror in the morning. 

\--

“No. It is just me,” Spock answers when his co workers ask questions. That’s what the papers the cops had made him memorise said: Skylar Grayson. 25. No family. _Human_. “Just me.” (I am alone.)

\--

Spock is not unfamiliar with dreams, an obvious disadvantage of his human half. He’d found them irritating at worst in the past, now they’re near unbearable. Spock wakes with a half scream formed on his lips, gasping and unable to register that the ringing in his ears is from his own distress and the memory. His eyes dart around the dark room, panic clawing at his skin, it takes too long to remember that his surroundings are familiar, that this is home. (this isn’t home)

He takes a deep breath and shivers, the sheets too cold, the apartment too cold, the entire city too cold. 

_You’re safe now._ The cops had said. _It’s going to be okay._ (it’s not okay.)

Jim’s home, Spock can see a sliver of light through the crack in the blinds and Spock wastes no time knocking on the door. Jim opens and his mouth forms unspoken words in concern but Spock just shakes his head and Jim wordlessly steps aside. Spock’s knees feel weak, the ache in his chest makes him feel heavy.

He misses home.

Jim doesn’t say anything. Just sits down on the couch and lets Spock rest his head on his lap. 

Spock’s just starting to drift off when he hears. 

“You know you can talk to me, Skylar, right?”

( _ ~~I am S'chn T'gai Spock~~ \-- I am Skylar Grayson_). 

(He wishes he could.)

\--

_Skylar Grayson. 25. No family. Human._  
Skylar Grayson. 25. No family. Human.  
Skylar Grayson. 25. No family. Human. 

\--

He never dreams when he’s with Jim, never his own dreams at least. 

He wakes thinking of the beach and hot sand, the salt water crusting his arms and the taste tangy on his tongue feels so real. It takes him a moment to realize that the salt water crusting his arms and the taste on his tongue feels so real because it’s his own tears. Jim had been dreaming of the beach and it had felt so achingly familiar. 

“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” Jim murmurs into the back of his neck, waking up at the sounds of distress and nosing at Spock’s thick dark hair which is free from the tuque for once due to the darkness of the room. (It will be back on before Jim wakes in the morning light.) He wraps his arms tighter around Spock. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Spock exhales shakily. He remembers the way his mother had always said he acted with more Vulcan control than any other Vulcan she knew. If only she could see him now. 

The thought of her brings on a new wave of anguish. 

Jim just holds him tighter.

\--

“Skylar.” Jim pants right into the hollow of Spock’s throat. “Oh god, oh god- Sky-.” They’re on the couch and the name sounds like poison falling from Jim’s mouth. “Oh god can I- Can we?” 

Spock wouldn’t need to be a touch telepath to feel the waves of arousal rolling off Jim, to know what he means. They stumble to the bedroom and fall onto the bed, stripping each others clothes off with such fervor that it’s a wonder they don’t shred the fabric. The room is dark, a sliver of brightness from the hallway coming under the closed bedroom door is the only source of light. Spock can just barely make out Jim’s silhouette hovering over him before the other ducks down to press hurried kisses to Spock’s chest and throat. 

And then.. And then Jim takes him apart.

The wet, squelching sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of Spock’s hole, easy and deliberate, is obscene in the heavy stillness of the room. The only other sounds being their harsh breathing and Spock’s stifled breathy moans. 

Jim licks at Spock’s stretched-tight rim and skims the edge with his thumb, curls his fingers just right until Spock lets out a keen that’s so foreign to even his own ears he doesn’t recognize himself. (he hasn’t recognized himself in a while.)

Jim pulls out and Spock has a moment of blind panic at being left empty, only made better when Jim gives his cock a sharp tug before pushing in, slow and deliberate. 

It feels like they’ve been at it forever. 

Spock claws at the covers, rubs the sweat off his face against the fabric and is grateful for the darkness because he know’s his entire body must be flushed green. His limbs shake, his brain’s fuzzy and he’s so utterly surrounded by Jim and his affection - _yes sky, i love this, this, so good-_ he never wants it to end.

He says, “Jim, Jim, Jim.” Like a prayer, tries to put everything he feels into it. Needs to speak some truth for once. 

\--

Jim finds Spock sitting on the stairs of the building at quarter to three in the morning a week later shivering.

“I wish you’d talk to me.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.”

\--

Spock makes breakfast in his tiny kitchen. Oatmeal and berries. He misses the cuisine from home almost as much as home itself. 

Jim hasn’t talked to him in two days and it hurts more than he would ever have been able to admit in the past. The kettle whistles, the oatmeal boils, and Spock feels for what seems like the hundredth time like his life is falling apart. 

\--

It’s another two days until there’s a knock at his door. 

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing Jim says to him when he opens the door. He’s got a bag of Thai food in one hand and the other shoved deep in his jean pocket. It’s only after Spock has let him into the apartment that Jim says. “We need to talk.” 

Spock frowns, Jim frowns back. 

They go into the pristine kitchen and Jim sets down the food on the counter before sitting down at the table and gesturing for Spock to do the same. The silence is heavy and Jim reaches across the table and grabs the edge of Spock’s ever present tuque. Spock grabs his wrist and stares hard.

“It’s okay.” Jim says uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s okay.

_You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now._

Spock feels frozen as Jim gently pries his fingers from around his wrist. Holding Spock’s suddenly shaking hand in his free one. 

“It’s okay.” 

The hat comes off and Jim doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even react. Just impossibly gently grazes his knuckle over the tip of Spock’s pointed ear. 

“It’s okay, Skylar.”

“Spock.” 

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“My name is S'chn T'gai Spock.” 

It feels like a weight has been lifted and Spock exhales for what feels like the first time in months.

( _ ~~I am Skylar Grayson~~ \-- I am S'chn T'gai Spock_.)

\--

“Spock.” Jim says, later, a long rectangle of light cutting his body at the hips, but the deep, blue shadows of the night already lightening into grey with the rising sun. “Spock.”

Jim says again and then grins. 

It’s the most beautiful thing Spock has ever heard and seen. 

For the first time since leaving home, Spock feels at home again.

**Author's Note:**

> I was a bit scared to post this because there's so many amazing authors in this fandom but I've met some really awesome and friendly people so bless lol. 
> 
> this was an au where neither jim or spock joined starfleet 
> 
> if it wasn't clear cause there was some pretty heavy reading between the lines required spock's parents were dead and he was in protective custody hidden on earth where he met jim and had to hide his vulcan heritage and then jim found out and was fine with it and everything WAS FINE the (happy) end.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://tobirion.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
